The sea was brewing with digital waves. I saw every color of blue. Teal. Sky. Cobalt. Periwinkle. Azure. Ocean. Cool. Light. See-through. It was all cubic. It was a giant sea of waves, made of cubes. It was a MineCraft ocean, and there was an electrical storm. I saw the giant waves and knew that they were all Cryptocurrencies. They were all there. I was on the Crypto Ocean. There was an Ethereum wave. There was a Litecoin wave. A Dogecoin wave (very skinny but uber tall). They were all in a giant shadow. I looked up and saw the largest thing in my life. As soon as I saw it, I knew what it was. It was Bitcoin. A mountain of Bitcoin.

I couldn’t believe my senses. I didn’t even see the wave. I felt it. In my loins. Built upon blocks and blocks and blocks of blue light. Charges of lightning ascended its sides. The blocks were amazing. I thought they might kill me. This thing was an electric Olympus Mons.

Then it shifted. Huge blocks disappeared out of its base. I couldn’t see them. They were under the block ocean, but I knew. In my state, I could sense everything. Whales. Whales were swimming away from the Bitcoin. As they did, the blocks started to fall. It triggered something big. With so many blocks missing, the massive weight started to fall. The wave was falling. I felt as if a god had been killed, and I was watching it crash down on me.

I was watching a Bitcoin crash. As it started to tumble, I knew my fate. I was going to die. I tried to keep it up, putting my hands into the mountain, but what was I going to do? I was a pimple to this thing. To this Bitcoin wave. It started to fall on me, and that’s when I saw the eyes.

I knew those eyes well. The king. He was looking down at me. He was pleased with me, and I got a foul feeling from those eyes of his.

And inhaled. I was wide awake. I felt wetness. Everywhere there was wet. I didn’t move. I didn’t know how to think. My mind. What did I just see? Bitcoin? Me? The king?

I just saw a Bitcoin crash. That’s what my dream was.

I stared straight ahead. There was a pie-shaped pockmark in the almost-smooth ceiling above me. Does it count as a pothole if it isn’t on a road?

Before I could think any more about that dream, the door opened. The king entered, and he was the last person I wanted to see. I had my eyes closed, pretending to sleep. Just keep that sleep-breathing. There was a chance he’d leave me alone…

But who was I kidding? He took his boots and nudged my hip. Okay. Time to start the day. I inhaled that bullshit oh-I just-woke-up breathing and turned. Those eyes. It was gonna be a rough day.

The king was not thrilled. He showed it. “Up,” was all he said. The last night wasn’t great. I basically lost everything. The king figured it all out. Samir, it turned out, wasn’t too bad at computers either. He found my order for that gun to Mom and saw that something was weird in the code. And they found my breadcrumb. They took all my privileges away. The king told me my billions were gone. My toys were his now. Samir was basically in charge, and I was his errand boy. They needed me still. If they didn’t, I wouldn’t be breathing in dirt right now. So… it was just a matter of what they would do with me. They let me keep my house, but I had no idea what happened to Ghada. I didn’t hear any gunshots last night, but who knows. Out here, life is so cheap. I prayed to God that she was alright. Does God help Muslims, or was that an Allah thing? I’ll have to ask him for help too.

Seeing the king in focus, I saw a golden tablet. I got that for you. That was me. That was Hefty. All this crap you have. All this war you got. Me! Hefty! I stayed up thinking of something, anything I could do, but I came up with zilch. I couldn’t stop crying. I lost just about everything. I still had the bracelet in the wire drawer. I’d have to keep it hidden if I ever wanted it back. I thought maybe my dreams would give me an answer, but what the fuck was that all about? I didn’t like the way the king was looking at me.

“Hefty,” said the king, half laughing, “you must see this.” What MUST I see? More horrors? Some cool video of a dude’s head blowing up. Show me something, anything good. I turned to look, and yea. That woke me up.

Everything was dark. Dark, except for a rectangle. It was a window, looking inside. It looked like a house. I’d seen it before. It was my house. Mom. Someone was filming Mom from outside the house. In the backyard. Then from the rectangle (which was our window) I saw the outline of a gun. A nasty magnum. Oh no. I looked at the screen icon. This was Periscope. This was the GoPro Killer. This was live.

“Hefty, can you see?”

I was looking at the screen, and sure enough. There was Mom.

Fuck.

What do I do?

I stared up at the king. His eyes looked down on me. Déjà vu. It was my dream. Oh God.

“Browns Stadium. Day New Year. Samir work. He fine soldier. You. You, ibn al Kalb. So now, I want see you, see what find I.”

GoPro trained the gun on Mom. I had to. Holy shit. I had to. I couldn’t let Mom, I mean weeping, sad-sucky-life-cancer-failed-marriage Mom die, but Browns Stadium? I love the Browns. The fucking Browns Stadium. All those people?

“You say last night you don’t this. New Year. Browns, or mom,” and then he made a “pew pew” gesture.

“WHY are you even doing this?” I wept. “All this? and then what? They’ll come here. They’ll blow this whole country up. Turn this place into Swiss cheese. Why? Why do this to everyo—"

The king slapped me hard across the face. Good morning. He then clenched my chin.

“American bombs, Hefty? I fear bombs USA? I welcome bombs USA!” I couldn’t breathe too well. I think that was the point. “I see bombs USA. I see them blow up mom, dad, sister. They blow it up all. America is bomb. They bomb everywhere but look where bomb they. Japan. Germany. Vietnam! VietNAM? Beautiful city. They big. Strong. Money, LOTS. And Iraq? and Syria? and Afghanistan? Look at this.”

He dragged me, by my throat and back fat, and hurled me outside. I gasped for air. “Look, Hefty! Look, what see?” Sand. A lot of hot sand. Dirty buildings. Machine parts on sand. Rust. Everything was broken. “Bombs USA blow everything up. Everything, but no rebuild. They come, BOOM! but no rebuild. No Re-BUILD? Japan, rebuild, Korea, rebuild.” He kicked my butt. “But here NO rebuild. They take everything Iraq and no rebuild. They kill all us, but no rebuild. America say, Iraq no good for rebuild. WHY?” The king sounded desperate for the first time. The first time I’d known him at least.

He turned and leaned over, very close to my face. “I want one thing. Better life my sons. That it. No more. bombs USA, but leave nothing for us. Laugh us. Hate us. We less good Japan? We less good Germany? Rebuild, but not us.”

They didn’t. America didn’t rebuild shit. Hell, even I got these people internet. They don’t even have that. “No lots money. No electrica. LalalaLALA, but if Brown Stadium Bomb? They bomb we. Bomb we more.”

“Wait…” my mind raced. “You want them to bomb you?”

“They bomb we. They bomb 40 times worse than war last … they destroy all, then rebuild. Then Iraq powerful make. Then sons powerful. Then sons future. We bomb them, they bomb us. Rebuild all. That America is.”

I just laid there. Roasting in the sun like an American piggy.

“I tired. Browns or mom.” The king started to walk away. “You choose.”